Jon Rappoport: Imagination, unleashed, dissolves the grip of solidified reality

I cannot say how thoroughly I resonate with Rappoport’s constantly mutating “point of view;” playfully I soar, giggling with pleasure, somersaulting through the endless blue yonder, making it all up as I go.

Especially love his “take ” on philosophers and their silly solidified “systems” in this first piece. 

Image: shutterstock

Image: shutterstock

Imagination Soars Again

August 4, 2016

In life and in art, so many people believe that, if they use imagination at all, it should be in a cautious way, a limited way, a way that doesn’t stretch the boundaries too far.

This is looking through the wrong end of the telescope.

One understands how elastic and malleable reality is, to the degree he exercises his imagination to move past conventional limits and out into the wild blue.

In fact, reality is imagination that has been slowed to a crawl, coalesced, bundled up, named, labeled, and slipped into a coma.

The most ponderous reading I’ve ever done is in the area of Western metaphysical philosophy—and that subject is filled to the brim with ideas that move, if at all, at a snail’s pace—and there is a barely a mention of imagination in its entire history.

No surprise. Why? Because, if philosophers elevated imagination to its proper status, they would have to admit that all their absolutes were merely temporary stop-gaps on the ongoing road of infinite inventing. Such a confession would immediately put them out of work.

So these dragons of the abstract keep buttressing their concepts, keep digging impenetrable moats around them, keep shoring up the foundations, keep laying brick and iron—and yet, one painter, working somewhere in an isolated room, is upsetting the apple carts of whatever is supposedly nailed down and known about Universe and space and time. He is finding universes without end, in the midst of “stability.”

Civilization keeps sinking deeper into its own stagnant juices, looking to support more irrevocable absolutes—but the artist is cut loose from the whole struggle. He is a revolutionary inside every cell and nerve impulse.

He knows he, and what he is inventing, are endless. They don’t move or exist by virtue of any clock.

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In this second piece, I giggled to see the way Rappoport assesses the “sick joke” that is called psychiatry, and what he proposes to cure the craving to dissect any behavior  that deviates from the robotic matrix normal into tiny little bits and pieces, which are then labeled, solidified, and judged as insane.

If we read Rappoport long enough, there’s no telling what will happen to our boxed in, “orderly” lives. May we begin to see/feel 3-D “reality” as the pretended solidification of the endless currents of imagination. And let us demonstrate this “artistic” way of being in our every thought, word and deed. Once enough of us transform from good little workers into massively creative artists, not only will the Matrix dissolve, but the entire universe will laugh and rejoice.

What Is the Matrix?

August 5, 2016

Back to imagination. The fountainhead.

The thing about imagination is that it has no timetable. It isn’t on a schedule. You can put it on like a coat and move with it at any moment you choose. If you choose.

If you strip away all the layers from any system in the world, you find the original kernel of imagination. All roads lead there.

The Matrix is life without imagination. You can say it is imposed, but that’s a convenient excuse. ANY kind of life drained of imagination would wind up being a Matrix. All by itself. It would form into layers of rock and sediment.

People don’t understand this, and they don’t want to understand this. They would prefer to lay all the blame at the door of clever evildoers. Elites. Which, of course, do exist. But that’s only half of the story, and it’s a weaker half by far.

Some people make a lifelong career out of accusing the elites of their crimes. That’s fine. More power to them. But without the other half, their efforts are dead in the water, because people love to take information and turn it into entertainment.

People want to be instructed on how to embrace a higher reality. This is called religion. So they put imagination aside and ask to be filled with a single work of art, and then they worship it. It’s a straight con, but that doesn’t stop the parade.

Here is a formula for you. It’s a rough approximation, but it’ll do. As imagination approaches half the distance to infinity, imagination becomes magic.

The laws of physics, such as they are and such as we understand them, are suspended. Imagination crosses a threshold, and when it does, all the so-called paranormal abilities kick in.

Imagination is far larger than paranormal abilities, which are really a subset of imagination.

Imagination trumps reality. Reality is slow-motion imagination, the Matrix. It appears solid and dense, but it is only a minor inconvenience, when understood from the point of view of imagination.

Obtaining this point of view is more than an intellectual exercise, it is the outcome of ACTION, and that action is imagination deployed.

Education is the effort to minimize imagination. It is training in how to become a member of the Matrix. This doesn’t mean that ignorance and stupidity are the keys to the kingdom. But it does mean that an overemphasis on learning dampens imagination and places it in a region of fog.

All systems tend to move toward imagination, if left alone. As my readers now, I’ve written many articles about the sick joke that is psychiatry. Well, if you could somehow take psychiatry and allow the professionals to invent their categories of so-called mental disorders and treat one another on that basis (and no one else), with harmless placebos, these loons would eventually arrive at the realization that they were making the whole thing up, lock, stock, and barrel. They would experience the joy of knowing they had been employing imagination to sculpt their system and structure. They would blow up right out of their Matrix and find themselves as artists.

All systems tend to move toward imagination, if left alone. As my readers now, I’ve written many articles about the sick joke that is psychiatry. Well, if you could somehow take psychiatry and allow the professionals to invent their categories of so-called mental disorders and treat one another on that basis (and no one else), with harmless placebos, these loons would eventually arrive at the realization that they were making the whole thing up, lock, stock, and barrel. They would experience the joy of knowing they had been employing imagination to sculpt their system and structure. They would blow up right out of their Matrix and find themselves as artists.

It might take them a few thousand years to reach this point, but reach it they would.

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